


Taste Of Evil

by sweetcarolanne



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Claiming Bites, Drugged Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:44:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tainted blood of a drugged victim brings about a strange reaction in Lestat... and only Armand's love and skill can aid him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste Of Evil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



> Dear shadow_lover, I very much enjoyed writing this for you and I hope that you also enjoy reading it! :)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I am making no money from this and do not own the characters, they are merely playing with me. Suing is therefore a waste of time!  
> '  
> Many thanks to my beta who wishes to remain anonymous.

The young man was everything Lestat both craved and needed in a victim that night – lithe, attractive, unconsciously alluring in his movements, and undeniably evil in his intentions. His thoughts betrayed him as he strode through the darkened streets and curled his long, thin fingers around what, as discerned by the keen vampire senses of Lestat, was obviously a knife in the pocket of his faded denim jacket. 

There was violence on this youth’s mind – robbery and perhaps even murder, should the occasion require it, and Lestat’s lust for the young criminal increased as he followed him discreetly, his steps leisurely but determined. This man was almost a mortal echo of Lestat himself in the way he looked and moved beneath the light of a crescent moon – slim and blond, with a predatory grace reminiscent of a hungry tiger on the prowl, and this mental image both stirred and amused Lestat as he stalked the young man towards more shadowy areas of the city. 

Nothing was as exhilarating and exciting to Lestat as the blood of an evildoer, and as the boy slipped into a dingy alleyway, out of the sight of any passers-by, Lestat finally allowed himself to move with his own preternatural speed and pin the would-be armed robber hard against a brick wall. He relished the boy’s struggles as he futilely strived to reach for his blade, and laughed in mockery and unrestrained delight at the victim’s impotent rage and growing fear as he vainly battled against Lestat’s superior strength.

As soon as Lestat’s fangs broke through the skin of the young man’s throat and the blood began to spill, the vampire sensed something was amiss. There had been no scent of alcohol or other substances, or any hint of inebriation from the youth’s gait or mannerisms, but Lestat detected a taint to the vital fluid the moment he took his very first sip. All his instincts screamed to him that this feeding was dangerous, and he knew that he should simply snap the boy’s neck with his hands and seek sustenance elsewhere. But the taste of the blood was spicy and intoxicating, and the boy was irresistibly beautiful as the fight was gradually sapped from his weakening body and he began to go limp against Lestat, helplessly yielding to his inevitable fate and succumbing to the erotic desire that arose unbidden in his dying body. With all the wild recklessness that Lestat was notorious for, he pressed forward, longing for every precious drop he could possibly devour.

Lestat could barely manage to pull himself away before the moment of death; only the most primitive of self-preserving reflexes saved him.

With the drained corpse left fallen in the darkness of the alley, Lestat clumsily stumbled home, reeling like a drunken man, occasionally almost falling and having to lean against the nearest wall for support, shaken and nauseous. Blood-tinged sweat soaked the clothes that now clung close and wet to his skin. He could hardly make his way to the ornate sanctuary of his bedchamber without reeling from the heady sensations of the drug and the blurring of his vision that resulted.

Lestat cursed aloud, more than once, as he collapsed upon the silk sheets of the massive four-poster bed. His fevered body required softness for once, not the dark confines of his coffin, and the thick velvet hangings around the bed would be sufficient to shield him from the sun when it eventually rose, although it would be many hours yet before the night was over. 

He struggled to relax, but the strange drug made him feel like he was on fire from within. An alien sensation of arousal seized him – a kind of stimulation he had not felt since those long-ago days when he was human. A massive, swollen erection throbbed between his legs, even more pulsating and insistent than the ache in his head. Conflicting needs made him moan and thrash and twist his hands maniacally in the bedclothes; Lestat thirsted to feed again, but was far too weak to rise from the bed and take to the moonlit streets once more. And then there was the unfamiliar feeling of wanting a warm body in his arms for more than the blood within its veins. Old memories of lovers surfaced from the depths of Lestat’s mind, and he groaned loudly, tormented by frustration and sensual need.

As Lestat fought to keep still and close his eyes, light footsteps announced the entry of another into the room. The bed-curtains were drawn aside, and a young man’s voice, filled with sorrow and concern, whispered tremulously, “Lestat – what have you done?”

Lestat looked up to see Armand, his beloved, standing above him.

Never had the ancient vampire looked so youthful and desirable as he did then, light catching his hair and creating a halo effect that made his beautiful face seem haunting and angelic. Lestat tried to sit up, reaching for that exquisitely slim form with eager hands, the lust caused by the tainted blood further inflamed by Armand’s beauty – but Armand shook his head and gently pushed Lestat back upon the bed. 

Armand, frowning slightly, began to pull the dampened, bloodied clothing away from Lestat, and when Lestat was naked at last, quickly fetched a sponge and warm water to cleanse his face and chest.

“I don’t know what could have caused this, but it has sickened you more than anything I have ever seen in all my years of immortality,” Armand said quietly as he sponged. “Of all the vampires I have ever known, only you would be so heedless of danger. Were you beguiled by a victim’s attractiveness – someone diseased, perhaps, or drugged?” There was no accusation or judgement in Armand’s eyes or tone of voice, only worry and a sense of knowing Lestat’s nature and predilections far too well.

“He was drugged – I think,” Lestat managed to gasp, then moaned as the soft, damp sponge caressed his swollen cock. Armand halted for a second, stunned by this reaction, then gently continued his ministrations.

The soothing water seemed to quell some of the heat and fever in Lestat’s tortured body, but the hardness between his thighs remained, and only seemed to grow more insistent and throbbing beneath the light motions of the sponge. Armand’s frown deepened, and he laid aside his cleansing implements and sat beside Lestat upon the bed. He reached to the bedside table for an ornate glass bottle, and poured some of the golden liquid contained within into his palm.

“A massage might relax you,” Armand said softly, and began to rub the oil, with its scent reminiscent of an expensive masculine cologne, over Lestat’s chest, arms and thighs. Lestat stirred, his lips parting and his eyes suddenly bright with the spark of pleasure that Armand’s touch had ignited, especially when the deft fingertips of the boyish vampire moved delicately across the small yet prominent peaks caused by the hardening of Lestat’s nipples. But the ecstatic sensations of the massage only served to stimulate Lestat still further, and he growled in vexation, his hips snapping instinctively upwards.

“Perhaps if I stroke you with my hand, the swelling will go down,” Armand whispered tenderly, and abandoned the pattern of innocent caresses, wrapping his fingers cautiously around Lestat’s rigid shaft. He began to move his slender hand slowly up and down, careful not to grip too tightly, and Lestat growled again, deep in his throat, with an unmistakably sexual and predatory sound this time.

Armand’s touch was both strong and delicate, his movements revealing a seductive skill unused for centuries, but never forgotten. Traces of oil still slick upon Armand’s palm eased the fluid motions of his gentle fingers, exquisitely teasing Lestat’s most sensitive flesh. It was sweet and tortuous to Lestat all at once, and he struggled between begging for more and snarling at Armand to cease.

“Not – working!” he finally managed to utter, his lips curling right back to bare the sharp points of his fangs, Armand’s own eyes were alive with light now, seeming to reflect the passion in Lestat’s, and his sigh, instead of conveying exasperation at Lestat’s words, seemed rather to reciprocate Lestat’s unbridled need.

“There is another way – a method I have not used for many years,” Armand told his lover, his voice trembling a little once again as he slid slightly away from Lestat and began to undress. He did so with vampire speed, but his swift and graceful actions still seemed devilishly slow to Lestat, who suddenly ached and burned for contact with Armand more than he ever had before.

In his glorious nakedness, Armand appeared more beauteous and perfect than a Grecian statue. Pale as marble and seeming to glow with the same enticing sheen as the moonlight that had illuminated Lestat’s doomed victim. Lestat watched in rapt fascination, his lustful cravings almost reaching boiling point as Armand prepared his own entrance with a little more of the massage oil before sitting astride Lestat. He slowly sank down upon Lestat’s hardness, and the other vampire gasped in wonder and delight at the exquisite feeling of tightness and heat that engulfed him.

The two of them moved together, slowly and clumsily at first, then with greater urgency and passion. Lestat’s whole body seemed to awaken with an aliveness that was almost human, as he at last consummated a union with Armand that he had never believed could be possible, one that he thought would have to remain a half-buried fantasy easily swept away by the divine raptures of hunting and killing. But they were merged in the flesh now, and Armand’s face was suffused with almost as much bliss as Lestat’s own. His hair still shimmered with sparks of golden light reflected from the chandelier, and Lestat could not help but fiercely grip Armand’s slender hipbones with a building frenzy, thrusting up into him with all his strength.

Lestat’s eyes locked with Armand’s as euphoric spasms began to overpower him, convulsing his entire body in something far more powerful than any mortal climax could ever be. With a guttural roar, he called Armand’s name out loud, pounding into him the last vestiges of his finally sated desire.

Slowly the erection that had caused Lestat so much agony began to subside, and a more familiar kind of hunger began to rise within him. Withdrawing from inside Armand. Lestat smiled wickedly as he swiftly reversed their positions, laying Armand down on his back upon the mattress and mounting him, his eyes once more aglow as he claimed Armand’s beautiful throat with a deep and piercing bite, seeking the ancient, healing blood that would restore his senses and his equilibrium.

Armand moaned and arched upwards, even more responsive to the sinking of Lestat’s fangs than he had been to the lovemaking of moments before. Everything about this act seemed more natural to both vampires than coupling in the manner of mortals – it was as if this was the pinnacle of ecstasy for them both, and the tender way in which Armand embraced Lestat and pulled him closer, surrendering even more profoundly to the sharp teeth penetrating his skin than he had to the thrusts of Lestat’s cock, seemed to signify an arousal and craving of Armand’s very own that now begged for attention and fulfilment.

It was as if this act made them somehow complete.

Pulling back slightly with a flirtatious, dominant snarl, Lestat kissed Armand lightly on the lips before moving back to his neck, marking him vividly with several piercing love-nips before drinking deeply again.

Despite himself, Lestat began to wonder if he should go out and find another drugged victim after he was fully healed, just so he could experience these strange delights all over again with the vampire he loved above all others.

Armand sensed his thoughts, and made a discontented noise, his eyes wide open and reproachful.

Lestat briefly pulled away to whisper, “Not tonight.” But he knew that the temptation would long remain.


End file.
